Vilcabamba: A photo recap-tacular

When last I blogged, I was under the impression that we were Peru-bound, but lo and behold, we stayed in small village of Vilcabamba for two nights more, followed by two days of buses, a topic which deserves a post of its own at some point. In any case, I´ll remind you that we are in full Carnaval season, and water balloons and silly string are all the rage:



.

I do believe a recap is in order. Vilcabamba, in its generosity, gave us such highlights as Horses:


"Hang on, I'll call you right back...Yeah... I'm on a horse... no I don't know how to steer it. I'm a bit scared."


And brisk creeks, perfect for watering:



We met our standard quota of characters here as well, unfortunately undocumented by our mobile phone/camera/stopwatch: a crocodile dundee colonial mother effer who sharpened a machete over a cup of coffee at breakfast, some freaky deaky new wave dude from Marin who insisted on holding his newborn child at ridiculous angles and positions, dangling him by the thigh and suspending him upside down by one foot, and our temperamental innkeeper, the Quebecois Marcel, who once gave us a good laugh when he informed us that he had found us a 'whore' for the night. I guess he meant a room, though both would have been okay at that point. Our first hostel, El Jardin Escondido, also yielded a most unexpected bounty: a worn and used version of this book, which continues to delight, especially on the heels of this dire, but excellent, read. Note: not the best book for a road trip.


In conclusion, Vilcabamba had telephones, and moments. It will be missed. Despite our inability to leave it (it was much like the Hotel California in that way), it was not without its charms. The village's greatest gift however, would have to be the acquaintance of a humble fisherman who shared a room with us on our final night. A foreign fellow in his early 30's, he smelled lightly of fish and wine:

He was nice enough, letting us stay in his tastefully decorated Monastery for only 10 bucks:



Jesus also introduced us to his loyal steed, a friendly fellow and my favorite dog of our trip so far, a boxer curiously named´Box´:


"I'm going to lick the shit out of you, Frenchie, then I'll eat your big gringo friend."

This dog was reminiscent of Scooby Doo in the sense that he frequently jumped into my arms as if I were a modern-day, non-cartoon version of Shaggy. The dog comforted me as we ate crackers and drank wine while waiting for Ben to return from wherever it is he goes at night.

Vilcabamba, the experience was almost religious. We salute you.